Now we're both holy, mate
by Alvarin and Ellwina
Summary: There's been three weeks since the final battle of Hogwarts and George mourning his dead brother, but one day Fred returns from the dead. Led by an old fairy tale they initiate the search of new life. –Written from Fred and George different perspectives.
1. Chapter 1 George Left Behind Alone

_We, Alvarin and Ellwina, were out on a walk and realized that we should write a fanfiction together. After a while we decided that we would write respective chapters based on two different characters' perspectives. Of course, it was Fred and George who first popped into mind.  
>It was mine, Ellwina's, mission to write the first chapter, from George's point of view. This means that the next chapter is written by Alvarin from Fred's. Eventually, we might write a few chapters together as it can get tedious reading the same thing twice. This story has been translated from Swedish so we apologize if the grammar is not perfect.<br>We hope you will enjoy our story about Fred and George's different views on the same adventure, and that you write what you think. If you like this you are more than welcome to read our individual fanfictions! ~Ellwina and Alvarin~_

… … … … …

**Chapter 1 George – Left. Behind. Alone.**

**George opened his eyes** and peered into the familiar face that looked back at him. More worn than what he used to be, and his eyes lacking the spark that they used to have.  
>Fred was dead, but he still sat in front of him. Followed him with his eyes, breathing slowly. George sat there and watched him. Saw a breeze from the open window make his hair flutter around his face, saw his eyes blinking briefly before they looked at him again. George held out his hand and felt the fingertips hit the cold glass.<br>The mirror, that was leaning against the closet door, reflected the sun and cast a bright spot in his forehead. He did not care about the heat that it caused, or the heat on his back. Nor did he care about the hammering noises from Bill and Charlie, who were fixing the exterior of the house. Nor the fly that had landed and was now walking around on his hand. Nothing mattered any more, everything had been destroyed.  
>George closed his eyes again. Felt how the burning, choking lump in his throat grew and left a stinging feeling behind his eyes. He slowly drew in air through his nose and waited a while before letting it out, as if prolonging the breath would stop the pain he had felt for almost three weeks. A cold, hollow pain that he knew never would go away.<br>He raised his head and looked at the mirror once again. His left ear shone with its absence. He hated his remaining ear, hated the irony. It was all alone. It, that previously had been one in a couple, now stuck out from the head and created an imbalance. The knot in his stomach pulled together. He was all by himself. Fred was gone. And he would never see him again.  
>A heavy thump shook the house when someone slammed a door, which caused the mirror to flip over and land with a dull thud and a clinking sound upside down on the floor.<p>

George had barely left his room since he arrived at the Burrow. He wore the same clothes he had had during Fred's funeral, and he only ate in order to appease his mother.  
>But she was still worried. Every other minute she stuck her head through the door, asked with a quiet and friendly voice "Would he not come down and eat with everyone else?" or "Was there nothing she could do?". Of course, there was nothing she could do. Nor did he want to eat with the others. As soon as George met any of the others, they looked not at him but at the gaping emptiness next to him. The empty space that might as well have been a black hole that attracted everyone's attention. He could not stand how they confirmed his twin's absence. How it, all the time, felt as if they got false hopes before realizing that George was not Fred. That he was only one, not two.<p>

The funeral had been unbearable, as several of the guests had started to cry as soon as they laid eyes upon George. Relatives and friends had expressed their sympathy about what had happened. Angelina Johnson had avoided eye contact with him throughout the whole evening, and Lee Jordan had seemed uncomfortable in his presence. He would rather not think about the ceremony itself. The speech he had written on a piece of parchment was still crumpled in his pocket, but he had never read it. Some of the guests seemed to blame him that he, who were Fred's twin, did not hold a speech, but he did not want others to hear. It was something between him and Fred. No one else.  
>But even though he was shut in his room, he could feel the atmosphere that lay as a dense cloud around the house. Like a mist that seeped in through the gap under the door and every crack in the wall. It choked everyone with grief. The final battle was over, but no one seemed to celebrate. He-who-must-not-be-named was gone, but no one was happy. All the battle had left behind was death and loss.<p>

George ignored the mirror on the floor in front of him and stood up. He could feel how numb his legs were, after sitting in the same position for too long, as he slowly walked across the floor and lay down on the bed. He turned, so that he wouldn't have to see Fred's empty bed across the room, and closed his eyes for a while before falling into oblivion

_It was completely silent, except for the train's rhythmic thumps against the railway. Outside the window, white structures and forms whizzed past in a white haze. The whole train compartment was lit up by a white light that seemed to come from every direction at once. George leaned back in his seat. Across from him, Fred was leaning back with his hands clasped behind his neck, studying him with a cheerful smile and sparkling eyes. He said something. The lips moved but no sound came upon them. Fred laughed, and George with him. They gesticulated and talked to each other in a soundless conversation. Time passed, but it was impossible to keep track of it. Someone knocked with his fingertips on the glass pane. George held his breath as the door silently opened and a thin, bony hand reached in through the doorway. Fred jumped down from his seat and held a white ticket out that the hand received, ripped and returned. The hand disappeared and the door slid back. Fred laughed triumphantly, but not the same inaudible laughter as before, but with a loud sound that echoed between the walls. Suddenly they found themselves at Hogwarts, surrounded by flames and falling rocks. Fred ran past George with a broad smile and he followed without hesitating. Through the familiar corridors, over fallen bodies, under broken pillars, still with Fred's laughter ringing through the castle. Finally, they entered a room whose walls, floor and ceiling were covered with mirrors. Fred stared at him from all directions with the same broad smile as before. The fire still flickered behind him. "I must go now," he said as his smile faded. "I must go, and leave you alone." A crack split his face in half and suddenly shattered glass rained down on George._

George woke with a start and sat up. The feeling of uneasiness lingered after the dream. Immediately the pain of longing came crawling. The discomfort was replaced by a sense of meaninglessness. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and made an attempt to get up, but remained seated. The sun had wandered across the sky and the smell of food was floating through the house now. His eyes wandered towards the mirror on the floor. He had to put it back before anyone could wonder where it had gone. He stood up slowly, walked across the floor and crouched down. The frame that the mirror had sat in was empty and glass lay shattered on the floor. George stared at the wooden bottom which remained in the frame. No reflection. No Fred.  
>It took time before he found his wand under the bed. He had barely used it since the battle at Hogwarts. Now, he pointed it towards the shards and cleared his throat. "Reparo". He looked briefly into the mirror before picking it up. He opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. The bathroom was only a few steps away and soon the mirror hung on its place over the sink once again.<br>A scream followed by a loud crash came from the kitchen below. George ran down the stairs and stopped in the doorway. Molly was slumped on the floor with a terrified expression that matched Ginny and Fleur's, who sat at the kitchen table. It was just barely that George noticed that they were in the same room, because in the middle of the room, hove Fred.

… … … … …

_We both had trouble choosing a twin, since we had to either empathize with either what it's like to lose a twin brother, or what it's like to be a ghost. __It fell upon me to write about poor George, since Alvarin grabbed Fred, and this is the result. We're planning to publish the chapters one week apart (on Fridays), and chapter two is finished and really good (according to me anyway), so be sure to read it then. ~Ellwina~_


	2. Chapter 1 Fred The Station

**Chapter 1 Fred – The Station**

**Fred opened his eyes.** The light was blinding where he lay, but despite that he felt no need to close them or squint. He carefully felt around him with his hand. A concrete floor, neither hot or cold.

"First _returner_ in several years."

"Or is it days?"

"No, it's seconds."

Fred turned his head to the right and spotted three old geezers on a bench. They were looking curiously at him, as if they thought that he would do something exiting. Usually Fred would've cracked a joke, but the situation was so bizarre that he couldn't come up with one.

He sat up and looked around. It looked as King's Cross Station, but he couldn't really tell because of the horribly bright light. "Excuse me?" he said to the geezers.

"Yes?" they said simultaneously.

"Where am I?"

All three of them scratched there heads at exactly the same time. _I've got to be dreaming_, he thought amusedly. Nothing like this could happen in real life, and he would, for that matter, never lay down and sleep on a concrete floor on his own.

"He doesn't know where he is."

"Or do he know where he is?"

"No, he doesn't remember a thing."

"You're loonier than uncle Billius," Fred muttered, more than a little annoyed, and looked around again. _It has to be King's Cross._

"You're at a train station."

"Or is it a terminal?"

"No, it's both."

He had had enough of the three crazy geezers. He wanted to wake up and tell George all about his dream. With determined steps he walked in the direction he thought would bring him to the exit.

His footsteps were soundless, which was strange. But then again, he was dreaming, and dreams were often strange.

Further ahead he saw two figures coming out of the light. They looked familiar, but were too far away for him to be able to tell who they were. He kept walking, suddenly aware that he was going in the right direction. A gentle breeze swept through the station, and he took a deep breath, which left him oddly unsatisfied. It was as if the air was too thin for him to be able to breathe properly, just like the time when he and George had stolen Bill and Charlie's brooms and tried to reach the sun. That adventure had almost resulted in their deaths. Luckily Arthur had seen them in the nick of time, and saved them. Fred smiled at the memory. He looked forward to waking up and meeting his family.

"Fred?"

He looked up and discovered that the two figures had gotten a lot closer. "Lupin and Tonks?" he said hesitantly. They were both covered in filth, dust and what looked like blood. The sight of them made him forget his conclusion about dreaming. "You two look like you've rolled yourself in.." His voice trailed of when met their gaze. If George had been there, he doubtlessly would've continued the joke, but George wasn't there. Fred was alone.

"Fred, you're going in the wrong direction," said Lupin gently. He was holding a steady arm around Tonks, and she was clinging to the back of his jacket, as if they were afraid that they would be separated if one let go.

"No, the exit is that way," said Fred confusedly.

Lupin made a little, but very warm smile. "I understand that you want to help your friends, but it's time to move on now. I have full confidence in Harry and the others. They can win without us. I'm sure of it."

Fred was speechless, and could do nothing but stare at Lupin. _What does Harry have to do with.. _Fred could see others now. A steady stream of people, many of them old or injured, and everyone of them headed in the same direction as Lupin and Tonks. A bunch of Hogwarts students that he recognized passed, and a bit further away he spotted Snape's greasy hair and chalky white face.

"Where am I?" he mumbled, but his voice cracked with emotion. He wanted George to come and yell at him for going of on his own, but he knew that George wouldn't come. Not to the station.

Slowly the images of the battle of Hogwarts started creeping back. He and George had fought as much and hard as they could, Percy had cracked a joke, and then everthing had disapeared. He shook his head wildly. "No, no, no. It can't be true!" he shouted at Lupin, who looked at him with pity.

"I know it's hard, but it will be all right. It's time for us to take the train. Where's your ticket?"

The tears were running down his face, but his hands ignored it and instinctively searched his pockets, without a result. "I don't have one."

"Everyone has at ticket, Fred," Tonks said reassuringly. "Come with us and you'll probably find it."

She reach for him with her unoccupied hand, but he backed away. "No. I'm not going to leave George there alone!"

He was about to start running when Lupin grabbed his arm. "Fred, if you leave now you will be stuck in the world of the living for all eternity. You will be nothing more than a pale reflection of yourself."

Fred jerked away. He didn't care what they said. He was going to make it out of the dream, and when he finally woke up he would hug his mother, put a spider in Ron's bed (which George would laugh at) and send a dungbomd to Percy's office. Everything would be like it had been before, and everyone would be happy. He and George would be happy.

Lupin and Tonks shouted his name, but he didn't listen. He could see the doors in front of him, and pushed by the last people in his way. He was going to wake up now. When he was running through the door he saw a grotesque pale face with red eyes. The hate that those eyes emitted made him take a quick leap, to get away as quick as possible. Fred closed his eyes and prepared himself for waking up in his bed at the Burrow.

But he didn't wake up. Instead of opening his eyes and looking at the burn mark in the ceiling that one of their failed experiments had caused several years ago, he saw nothing. It was black and the air was stale and damp. He put his hand up to, if possible, feel where he was. His hands slipped into something mushy. Or not mushy, 'cause it was actually hard, but his arms felt mushy.

He sat up carefully, afraid that he would hit his head, and felt how the rest of him became mushy. Mushy and cold. When he put his hand up once again he could feel his fingertipps becoming warm. _Odd_. Fred stood up, slow and carefully, but suddenly froze when he was halfway up. The reason the he couldn't move had nothing to do with shock or fright. In fact it was caused by acute decision anxiety. He couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or cry.

_Fred Weasley_

_1 April 1978 – 2 May 1998_

"_Always a smile upon his lips, even in death"_

the tombstone that he was looking up on said. It hadn't been a dream. Lupin had been right. The feelings that stirred inside him threatened to push him down into the ground again, so he chose to laugh. A dry, mirthless laugh, but still a laugh. _George is going to love this._ It felt as if his stomach was a great, big, sharp lump of cold metal when he thought about his brother. George thought he was alone, that Fred had abandoned him. Fred could barley imagine how it would be to loose George, and in a way he felt relived that it was he, and not George who had died. He pitied George, and he hoped that he could cheer him up. Hoped that George would be happy that he had come back.

Not without struggle he managed to crawl out of his grave. It was hard to not slip down again, but after a few laps around his own grave he had gotten the hang of it.

He looked around carefully, and felt the relief spread throughout his entire body. The tombstone, _the only tombstone_, could not have been placed on a better spot, he noted. In every direction he could see yellow barley swaying in the wind, and a bit further down the hill he could see the Burrow. It was nice, really fancy actually. When he spotted the flowers that lay down by his feat he was once again reminded that his brother was alone, and started to walk towards the Burrow.

At first he was just planning to walk through the door, but then he realised what an opportunity he was wasting. No, if he was going to return from the dead, he would do it with stile. Therefore, Fred avoided Bill and Charlie, who were trying to mend the seriously damaged roof, and slipped inside the wall instead.

He took the first opportunity he could find. Molly was standing by the stove, on which it stood a pot simmering soup upon. At the kitchen table sat Ginny and Fleur. No one said anything, and the atmosphere were dens, not to say gloomy.

He dived down into the stove and put his head up in the big pot. It was hot, but not painfull. _Why haven't I thought about this before_, he tried to joke with himself. How fun wouldn't it had been if they had convinced Sir Nicholas to help them with one of their pranks. It would most certainly have brightened their school years, or more like brightened their already brightened school years.

He could hear how Molly grabbed the heavy lid, and prayed a silent prayer that his mother wouldn't get a heart attack. The light shone down in the pot and he saw, just for a moment, Molly's horrified face, then he heard how Molly first screamed, and then dropped the lid down on the floor with a loud clatter.

With a great big smile he stepped out of the stove. "It needs more salt."

His mother, pale as a corps, were sitting on the floor not looking at Fred, but behind him. When he turned around he saw his own face staring back at him. Although the face that Fred saw wasn't as.. _See-through_ as his own.

… … … … …

_I hope the differences in the twins' personalities shows. Fred takes the whole thing a tad better than George, for now at least. He hasn't really realized the seriousness in his situation yet. Next chapter will be out soon. - Alvarin_


	3. Chapter 2 Fred  The Reunion

**Chapter 2 – The Reunion**

**Fred stared at George** with a silly smile that soon died when he noticed George empty eyes. Wasn't he happy to see him? The happiness that he had felt disappeared as quickly as a wave, and left nothing behind but emptiness. The spooky twin didn't get to brood for long, since the door opened with a bang and Bill and Charlie ran in with their wands drawn. Bill (who came in first) stopped, so suddenly that Charlie ran into him and almost pushed him to the ground, when he saw Fred. The colour had been drained from both their faces, as it had from all the other familiar faces. No one said anything, they just stared.

When a dark and foul feeling started seeping out from the corner of his mind, he knew he had to say something to lighten the mood. "You look like you've seen a ghost," he said with feigned surprise.

For a moment his wrist became strangely mushy. Strangely mushy and wonderfully warm. When he locked down he saw Molly trying to grab his leg, several times without succeeding. She said something, but her sobbing made it almost inaudible, so Fred leaned closer.

"Y-y-you idiot! Of all stupid jokes.."

Fred smiled at his mother. Despite the situation, she always managed to find something to yell at him for, and he loved it. It used to be extremely annoying, but now it filled him with well needed warmth. Not that he was cold, but he wasn't warm either._ Empty_, was probably the correct word. "I'm sorry, mum," he said with a soft smile and tried to pat her on the head with a clumsy movement. He didn't want to push his hand through her head, so he patted _above_ her head, which oddly enough seemed to sooth her a little.

There was a sudden cry from Ginny, and when Fred looked up at her he saw her shocked face crack and give way for hysterical sobbing. It reminded Fred of when she, as a toddler, had fallen of her broom. Fred felt a pang of guilt, knowing exactly how he would have felt if he had seen any of his siblings die. Okay, no, he didn't know _exactly_ who he would have felt, but he could imagine. He had, after all, turned back because he didn't want to be alone. _Selfish. _

Once again Fred pushed the dark feeling aside and went to put his arms around his inconsolable sister. It didn't really go that well, since he didn't want to push his arms through her. The strange hug made Ginny cry even louder, and Fred didn't know what to do. He glanced towards George, hoping that he would do something to lighten the mood, but his other half just stared at him with the same empty, lifeless eyes. The others weren't of any help either. They just stared at him without saying anything. Fred couldn't help but think about how stupid they all looked. Bill and Charlie stared at him with eyes widened by shock and their moths opened, Molly and Ginny cried like babies, Fleur looked at him with a scrutinizing gaze. And George.. George who looked like.. Like he..

It sizzled from the stove when the soup suddenly decided to boil over. Charlie was the one who reacted first, and hurried over to the stove to remove the pot. One by one they seemed to wake up from their trance, and first to say something (something audible) was surprisingly enough Fleur, who, with strong accent and insensitive tone asked: "So.. what? You're going to be here now?"

Fred could barely stop himself from laughing, but he felt that it was best for all of them if he tried to answer the question seriously. Well, as seriously as a Weasley twin could. "Yeah, something has to liven up the place, lest the ghoul dies from occupational fatigue."

"The ghoul had been usually quiet lately," Bill murmured with a smile playing in the corner of his mouth.

"O crap, I'm too late. May he rest in peace." Fred made a sign of the cross on his chest, and succeeded to look serious for a brief moment, before his face broke into another smile. "Speaking of resting in peace.. What a nice tombstone. But seriously, what happened to the things I wrote in my will?"

Ginny laughed a cried at the same time, and Fred felt that he could finally let her go. "Do you honestly want your body to lay in front of the entrance to Zonko's?" Molly had managed to get up from the floor, and sat down in a chair that Bill pushed towards her. She looked slightly nauseous when they spoke about Fred's body as if it was a slab of meat. Fred himself didn't mind though. He didn't think about his body like apart of himself, since he was standing right there, and his body wasn't a part of him any more.

"Yes, of course! I can't imagine a better way to take out the competition. Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes would gain monopoly of the whole market."

Fred glanced towards George, whose expression had finally changed. His brother smiled, but it wasn't the natural, warm smile that Fred was used to seeing on his bothers smile. Fred couldn't explain it, but for a moment he felt as if they would never be able to return to what they was. He felt as if he, not by dying, but by coming back, had caused an irreversible damage. They looked each other in the eye, and Fred wished briefly that he was dead again.

"Welcome home," said George finally. His voice sounded strained, just like his smile, and he didn't even seem to notice that he was crying.

Fred had longed for his brothers voice, to see his smile, but this was far from what he had expected.. But despite of that the words that George had just uttered was better than anything Fred had ever heard before. _Welcome home._

He wanted to give George's smile back, his real smile, and without stopping to think Fred ran forward to throw himself around George, in an attempt to hug him. It resulted in him falling through George and doing a bellyflop through the floor and down into the basement.

Couldn't he touch anything? Not even his second half? Once again the dark feeling started creeping out, but Fred pushed them away. It was to much, way to much for him to be able handle. He tried to convince himself that he had imagined the stiffness in George's smile.

It took a while, but he finally managed to learn how to control how high he floated above the ground. He flew up through the floor, just high enough so that his head poked up through the floorboards. The others stared at him with a mix of shock, fright and amusement. Ginny smiled through her tears.

"Stop crying, all of you. It's not like I've died.. Kind of." And that was really how he felt, despite the fact that the others didn't seem to agree.

… … … … …

_A couple of things I thought about while writing:_

_1. You do remember the family ghoul that lives in the attic at the Burrow, right? Apparently it makes a lot of noise when it thinks that the house is too quiet. Might be good to know if one wants to understand the joke. (I know, cracking jokes isn't really my thing, but Fred has to try to compensate for George who is ridiculously depressed.)_

_2. They wouldn't really get full monopoly of the market, since "Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop" lays in the Diagon Alley._

_Aaanyway.. Thanks for reading and please review! - Alvarin_


	4. Chapter 2 George Alive Dead Back

**Chapter 2 George – Alive. Dead. Back.**

**George stared at Fred. **It was him. Fred stood before him with a forgotten smile still upon his lips, the same as the day he had left. George felt paralysed, the happiness he felt was almost suffocating. He was back. He wasn't alone any more. Fred was back. They were two again. Everything would be as before. The smile on Fred's face faded as he watched him. George didn't understand why, was something wrong? George looked at the face he had longed for, but all of a sudden it flowed together with another face when the door flew open and Bill and Charlie appeared in the doorway. Stunned, they froze and starred at George trough Fred. Fred turned around to face them. Slowly the truth came crawling. Fred was still dead. He was back, but he was dead.

His older brothers stared, with eyes wide with shock, at the ghost before them. Why hadn't George seen it before? That Fred wasn't the same, that he hovered over the floor, that he had lost all his colour, that he could see right through him.

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Fred broke the silence. George struggled to take in the meaning of the words he had spoken. He was kidding. As always. Like nothing had happened. But if it nothing had happened, Fred wouldn't had chosen that joke.

Molly sobbed and made George aware of her presence. She were sitting on the floor trying in vain to get a grip around Fred's leg, but her hands just went right through it. It was as if Fred wasn't actually standing there, as if a pale reflection had taken his place. His mother wailed with sorrow when she finally gave up her attempts and let her hand drop to the floor. Fred smiled, a soothing and calm smile, as he looked down on her.

"I'm sorry, mum." George could barely apprehend the words. Fred whispered them with a sad, soft tone and left the sentence hanging in the air. He had trouble to fully grasp the situation. His thoughts were slow and thick. It sounded almost as if Fred had meant more with the words than just an apology for the inappropriate joke. The daily headache that had started a few weeks back began to throb, making it difficult to bring order to his thoughts.

Ginny broke down at the table and cried loudly. Nobody moved. It seemed like they didn't want to take their eyes of Fred, who were patting Molly slightly above her head. Eventually Fred floated to his sister and left his mother, still on the floor.

George followed his brother with his eyes and then let them rest on Fleur. Her long, blond hair was tied in two braids and her facial expression reflected only mild surprise. Bill and Charlie who were still standing in the doorway, stared at Fred as he did his best to cheer Ginny up. Maybe it was the contrast between them that made George feel as if Fleur was intruding. She looked almost uncomfortable because of Ginny and Molly's crying and moved further away from Fred, who stood at his sister's side.

A sudden movement made George turn his gaze towards Molly's devastated eyes. They were red-rimmed and her nose had taken on a deep pink colour. Her trembling lip made her look like she wanted to tell him something, but she couldn't find the right words for it. He could almost feel her jumbled thoughts. See them in her eyes.

George barely noticed that the soup on the stove boiled over and flowed down until it hit the hob with a sizzling noise. Molly, on the other hand, startled and made an attempt to stand up, but halfway up her knees buckled and she fell down again. Somebody lifted the pot from the stove, but George didn't register who it was. He couldn't stop thinking about what it was that his mother had tried to tell him. Had he been mistaken? Behind the shock and the grief, he thought he had seen a glimpse of accusation in her eyes. But why would she accuse him? George let his eyes rest on Fred, that had let Ginny go and was now talking and joking with the rest of the family. They seemed to have recuperated from the shock. Did she blame him of Fred's return? Was it wrong that he had returned from the dead, just to see them again?

He noticed that Fred had stopped talking and were now looking at him. George forced himself to smile. Pulled the corners of his mouth up in something that he hoped was a smile. He didn't want Fred to worry, or make him sad. He was happy to be back. George understood that, and he wasn't going to let him see how confused he felt.

"Welcome home." His voice felt unfamiliar, not as his own. He hadn't talked for days, hadn't had any reason to.

But Fred didn't seem to notice how strained his voice had sounded, because he smiled and ran towards him with open arms. Just like when they were young and had been separated from each other for a longer period of time. George felt a fluttering sensation inside his stomach, and thought that maybe everything would be okay, but just as Fred was going to lay his arms around him, he continued right trough him and fell down through the floor, leaving George standing alone with a cold emptiness.

It took a few seconds before his twin's head appeared from the floor. Seconds that felt like hours, days. Fred's face looked up on them, studied them for a while before breaking the silence.

"Stop crying, all of you. It's not like I've died.. Kind of," he said with a big grin.

George's forced, stiff smile had faded completely, because died was exactly what Fred had done.

… … … … …

_When we planed this fic I liked Fred the most, but after writing these first two chapters and trying to emphasize with their situations and personalities my opinion changed. We're currently translating chapter 3, and next week it's my turn to post George's part of it. Hope you like it and continue reading. ~Ellwina~_


	5. Chapter 3 George Warmth Guilt Regret

**Chapter 3 George – Warmth. Guilt. Regret.**

**George felt the warmth from his family** cleanse out the darkness that had been hovering over them for several weeks. He couldn't understand how the others could just accept everything that had happened. That they ignored the big picture and just saw what was in front of them at the moment. That they didn't realize what Fred had sacrificed to come back.

He clenched the handrail even harder. Now, when a few hours had passed, George was finally starting to sort out his thoughts. But with the clarity the anxiety followed, the anxiety that threatened to swallow him. He had tried to not show Fred how he felt, tried to hide it, but again and again came the persistent feelings like waves, and flushed away the smiles that he had tried to show his brother.

He could hear buzzing voices from behind the ajar door at the end of the hallway. A constant murmur from which he could distinguish his twin brother's voice.

George regretted that he had left the living room and Fred, he shouldn't have done that. He was still standing on the stairs, one foot hanging in the air between two steps. He couldn't bring himself to move either forward or backward. Didn't want to be alone, didn't want to meat anyone. It was as if someone had cast petrificus totalus on him, freezing him on the stairs.

He heard creaking steps from the floor above, a soft click as the door was shut and steps that moved towards him. He felt his heartbeat quicken, and snapped out of the trance. He didn't want to be seen, didn't want anyone to bother him and the war in his mind.

George stumbled down the last steps, opened the door immediately and quietly took it with him on his way through the doorway. He could hear the steps passing him and entering the living room. With a deep breath he closed his eyes and leaned towards the door. The panic that he had just felt settled down, shrank and finally disappeared. He knew there was no point in running from the warmth. Knew that he could just go to his room if he wanted to be alone, but the loneliness was so obvious there. He had spent too much time there for the room would be anything but sadness and despair. The whole house seemed stuffy, oppressive, he needed air, needed to get away from the voices in the living room, away from the warmth.

George opened the kitchen door at the back of the house. Hesitated for a moment before stepping over the threshold. It was late. Around 2 a.m and the stars was visible through the dark clouds that floated across the sky. The lit window of the living room cast long shadows in front of him as he started to move away from the house. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Fred's shimmering figure close to the glass pane. Everything had become so wrong. The whole situation was twisted, false. A warp mirror that tried to reflect what had once been. Fred didn't seem to understand, didn't even try to realize what had happened. He just laughed, joked and talked to everyone, as if nothing had happened. The others followed his lead, afraid to shatter the reflection.

The contours of the tombstone became sharper the closer he came. He hadn't been there since the funeral, and at that time he had tried to avoid looking at it. He didn't like the fact that everyone had acted as if the stone had replaced Fred, tried to become something it wasn't. Now the situation was the opposite, Fred had replaced the stone.

George sat down next to it, not knowing why, but it made him feel a bit better. The air was cool, clear and the wind made the barley bend and nod wherever it went. He stretched out on his back, closed his eyes and tried to forget everything. Shut out all thoughts and memories. Forget the fact that things had changed.

"Personally, I think I have better humour than my tombstone, but you obviously prefer to hang out with it instead of me." The accusing voice made George wince. He knew it better than his own, and when he opened his eyes he saw Fred hovering over the ground six feet away. Suddenly all feelings of guilt returned, he shouldn't have left the living room, he should have talked to Fred, he shouldn't have left his side. George tried to come up with a reasonable excuse, something that would compensate for all that he had done towards Fred, but before he had time to say anything Fred's face twisted into a grimace.

"I came back for your sake, you know.. And now you act like I'm not even here." His words felt like a punch in the face. George knew it was his fault. That it was he who had caused it all, but to get the truth thrown in the face by the person he had hurt was more painful than he had expected. If he hadn't wished.. If he had been able to handle his grief better..

"I thought you would be happy to see me again, but it's like you preferred life without me!" Fred shouted, loudly enough to be heard over the whole field. "Come on, just say it! 'I wish you were dead,' try! I. Wish.."

"You're already dead." George's voice sounded hazy, distant. He didn't know why he had said it. Perhaps to smother the awful meaning of what Fred had said. To silence Fred, and silent was exactly what he became. His angry expression seemed to evaporate, leaving a shocked and regretting face. He moved his lips, but George couldn't hear what he was saying.

"And you'll never find peace," he continued, barely aware that he had gotten up. He wanted to stop, didn't want Fred to hear the horrible words that he was saying. "You'll see your whole family age and die, and then you'll be left behind. Alone, forever." He wanted to beat and punish himself for what he had said to Fred, whose eyes seemed to have lost all the joy they previously had.

"You stink," Fred's voice was hard, rough and made George refrain from apologizing. He knew it wouldn't be enough to atone for what he had said.

"I know," he whispered, and knew how true the words were. He was a lousy brother, a lousy human, everything was his fault. He began to run, down the hill and across the field, and stopped only when he arrived at the house. His lungs ached because of the cold air, his breathing was heavy and his head seemed to throb in pace with his heartbeats.

He stood there for a while, with thoughts that were fighting for room and tears that threatened to come out, before he opened the door and walked up the stairs with heavy steps. Harry turned around a corner and collided with him, causing him to stumble backwards a few steps before he regaining his balance.

"Oh, I'm sorry," said Harry apologetically, and George could not help noticing his worried frown. "Are you okay?" he continued, but George didn't answer, didn't want to share his thoughts, and started to walk away.

"You dropped this," he heard Harry say, and when he turned he immediately recognized what it was. Harry held out the crumbled speech that he had been carrying in his pocket since the funeral. George took a step towards him, but changed his mind. What was the point in keeping it? Fred was back and George had hurt him. The speech was meaningless. He turned away from Harry again.

"Burn it," he said over his shoulder before stepping into the closest bathroom and locking the door.

'You stink,' the words rang constantly in his ears, refusing to go away. He turned the tap for hot water and kicked of his shoes, pulled of his socks. He hadn't taken a bath since the battle of Hogwarts, hadn't seen any point in doing it. George arduously unbuttoned the shirt. His fingers hurt, his throat burned. It was Fred's shirt, he had borrowed it for the funeral. He didn't know why.

He slipped down into the warm water, tried to rinse of all that had happened the last hour. When he woke up today Fred had been lost, gone forever, and now he was back, and he would never leave them again. Couldn't even if he wanted to.

George held his breath and let his head sink down under the surface. It was his fault that Fred was back, his fault that Fred was forced to walk the earth forever, as a reflection of his former self. It was his fault.

… … … … …

_I hope you like our interpretations of the poor twins' fates thus far. Please review, and make sure you read Chapter 3 Fred – The Fight, which will be published next week. ~Ellwina~_

_(Btw, I translated Ellwina's chapter this week, since we're both finding it increasingly difficult to finish the new chapters on time. Hope I didn't mess it up. - Alvarin)_


	6. Chapter 3 Fred  The Argument

**Chapter 3 Fred – The Argument**

**Fred felt the warmth from his family**. It was wonderful, but made a great contrast to the cold that oozed from his twin brother. George had barely said a word to him during the whole evening, and he had been one of the first to go to bed. It was as if George avoided him.

"Teddy's asleep," said Harry, sounding relived, as he walked into the living room and sunk next to Ginny on the couch. Fred felt sorry for him. Because Lupin had made Harry godfather, ha had become a "dad" at the age of 17. It couldn't be easy to take care of a child when you yourself were only a child. Luckily Molly and Ginny helped him as much as they could. "Where is George?" Harry asked when he noticed that the only twin in the room was floating above the floor.

"He went to bed," said Fred with a hard-set face.

Ginny smiled softly towards him. "Give him some time. It's a lot to take in all at once." His only sister had grown so much since the last time he saw her. She wasn't taller, but more of a grown up. A lot more grown up than he and.. Than him. George had grown to, or _aged_ was more like it. It hadn't actually passed enough time to make it noticeable that George was older, but George had definitely changed during the short time that Fred was gone. He looked at least five years older, not to mention the stench. George smelled like a 90-year-old man who hadn't showered since the first wizard war.

Fred let out a deep sigh. "I don't understand why he and mum are so upset. I'm here, right? Better that than sitting at the station with those three madmen."

Harry twitched as if Fred had hit him. "You were at the station? King's Cross?"

Fred blinked in surprise. He knew that Harry had died and come back during the battle of Hogwarts. Had he been at the station too? "Yes..?"

Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Charlie suddenly seemed very interested, since they all leaned forward to listen. "Tell me about it," said Harry flatly with a demanding tone.

Fred started talking. He told them everything from the point where he had woken up, until he saw Voldemort's face before returning. Fred didn't know why, but in the middle of his speech he had felt the ground under him quake, but none of the others had reacted. It was like his core had moved. At the same time he had instinctively looked out of the window and seen what looked like George pass by outside. When the world was stable, and his core was still once more he discovered that he was looking at his own reflection. Odd.

"Keep going," Ginny said, her voice barely audible. She had been close to tears when he told them of Lupin and Tonks, so Harry had put her arm around her. Fred was surprised to see that Ron, the overprotective brother, didn't react.

When Fred was done talking, Harry continued with his own story about when he had met Dumbledore at the station, and how he had seen the ravaged piece of Voldemort's soul.

The silence which settled down in the room when Harry finished his story was oppressive. He and Fred had given the others a glimpse into what happened after death. An insight that no living human being was meant to have.

"I think I'll go to bed," Hermione said softly. Ron murmured in agreement and followed her upstairs.

A sudden cry made both Harry and Ginny suddenly stand up. "I'll take care of it," she told Harry before hurrying to Teddy.

Harry and Fred simply stood (or hovered, in Fred's case) and looked at each other for a while, before Fred finally said: "You should go to bed too. I think I'll go for a walk." Harry nodded silently and watched as Fred hovered out of the door.

He didn't know what it was, but something pulled him towards the hill where his tombstone stood. Maybe he'd feel better if he didn't go there. Not that he was feeling bad, just a bit.. Confused. He had done his best to not show it to his family, but it wasn't all good to be back. There was a lot of other stuff too. A lot of stuff that Fred didn't want his family to knew that he felt. He didn't even want to admit it to himself.

Fred looked doubtfully at George as he lay with closed eyes beside his tombstone. His brother had barely spoken to him on the whole evening, which Fred had accepted since George had stayed by his side, but now he didn't know what to think any more. Instead of keeping him company, George had gone out to see his tombstone. It was as if George didn't actually want him back. Like he'd rather hang out with Fred's tombstone than Fred himself. The others in their family had almost immediately let him in again, accepted him as one of them, but George, his other half, seemed like he didn't want to be anywhere near him. He had lied just to get away.

"Personally, I think I have better humour than my tombstone, but you obviously prefer to hang out with it instead of me," he said with a voice that sounded much angrier than he had intended it to. George opened his eyes and looked indifferently back at Fred. "I came back for your sake, you know.. And now you act like I'm not even here." George sat up, leaning on his elbows. "I thought you would be happy to see me again, but it's like you preferred life without me!" Fred shouted, frustrated by his brother's emotionless face.. "Come on, just say it! 'I wish you were dead,' try! I. Wish.."

"You're already dead."

Fred starred at George, unable to talk back. The anger had disappeared as quickly as it had come. He regretted that he had taken his frustration out on George. The worlds had come like a punch in the face. He had never thought of himself as dead. He was just a tad.. See-through. The word "death" made everything so final, it declared that he would never be anything else. "But," he started, barely audible.

"And you'll never find peace."

Fred didn't like where this conversation was headed. "But.."

"You'll see your whole family age and die, and then you'll be left behind. Alone, forever."

George had opened the door inside Fred's mind that had earlier been just slightly ajar. The darkness hidden behind it surged through him and threatened to push him through the ground again, so deep down that he would not ever be able to get up again. Despite the wave of emotions flooding his head he couldn't come up with anything better to say than: "You stink." He meant it in more ways than one.

George mumbled something inaudible and left quickly. Fred barely noticed that he had gone, since he was too busy with his desperate attempts of closing the door again. He couldn't. To much darkness had seeped out, and it felt as if he was about to cry. For several minutes he waited for the tears to come, but then he realized that he'd never cry again. Instead he stood gasping for breath in loud, dry sobs that didn't make him feel any better. He wanted everything to go back like it used to be. He wanted them to be two halves of the same person. Right now they were nothing more than shards of a mirror that had been crushed and spread over a cold floor, a floor so big that they could no longer hear or see each other. He sank to his knees, overcome by emotions that he had previously pushed away. If George didn't want him there, then why had he come back?

"Umm.. Fred?" It was Harry who, without Fred noticing him, had walked up behind him. "Are you all right?"

Fred couldn't answer. He had managed to stop his pathetic sobs, but he wasn't sure that his voice would hold if he tried to answer. Instead he got up, turned towards Harry and nodded. Harry was holding a crumbled piece of paper in his hand.

"I found this on the ground," he mumbled hesitantly.

Fred stared at the paper. He hadn't seen it anywhere near the tombstone. Had George dropped it? "Does it say anything?" The sudden curiosity distracted him just enough from the emotional chaos for him to be able to talk properly.

Harry unfolded it and read in silence. The face he made was unreadable, but it bothered Fred anyway. "do you really want me to read this?" said Harry with a voice so soft that Fred almost couldn't hear him. "It's pretty.. _Personal_."

"Read it!" Fred exclaimed. It had to be something that George had written. Something that George had written to him. Was it bad? Was it the same heinous things that George had just told him, or was it something good, something wonderful that would make him feel guilty for yelling at George. Fred didn't know what to hope for.

Harry read with a shaky voice, and Fred listened intensively.

_Dear Fred_

_Actually, that is a horrible way to start this. 'Dear,' is something that you write to people even if you don't even know them, and I'm probably the one who knows you the best._

_It was Percy who wanted me to write this, or rather a speech for your funeral. Dad also told me I should write something, but I already know that I'm never going to read it out loud. It's meaningless since you're not listening. There's so much that I want to tell you, but nothing that really matter, because nothing will ever go back to the way it used to be. It's a bit like the time just after I lost my ear, when one half of me became silent and lifeless. Similarly, the world has fallen silent now that you're gone, all is silent._

_Do you remember the time when we first heard about the unbreakable oath? We we're eavesdropping on dad and Bill, and decided to make Ron take it. It was pure luck that dad caught us, I guess. I can't even remember what we wanted him to promise. But its the other promise that I can't stop thinking about. It keeps playing in my head, again and again._

_It was I who suggested it, when we had been separated from each other and were finally reunited. I suggested that we would swear to never be apart again. That we would forever be at each others side. Of course you agreed, without a doubt. I still remember the warmth that flooded up through my hand when we took the oath, with Ron as witness. I actually believed that thanks to the oath, you would never leave my side, but apparently I was wrong. We left each other on either side of an invisible wall, unable to cross to the other side. Now we're both lonely and everything has gone quiet. All I want is to see you again, to hear you crack jokes and laugh, but I know that I can't. You're gone. You broke the oath, disappeared from my side._

_Despite knowing that you'll never hear this, I want you to know that you're always by my side, in my mind and in my heart._

_George_

_PS. Now we're both holy, mate_

Fred was once again sobbing. Harry looked confusedly at him, didn't seem to realise that the twitchy breaths was tears that didn't want to come. He hadn't known that George.. He felt like an idiot. A git. A schmuck. A fool. A dipshit. No word that Fred could think of was strong enough. He should've just done what Ginny had told him and given George some time, not expected everything to go back to normal at once. Nothing would ever be like it used to again.

He floated towards the Burrow, leaving Harry behind. He had never felt such a strong need to do something as he did now, and it wasn't a need to sleep or eat, but a need to apologize.

_(The end of the letter, and the title, is in English in the Swedish version too, since in Swedish it would've said "Now we're both pennies, mate," which doesn't really work. As always, thanks for reading and **please **review! It would make us both very, very happy ;) - Alvarin)_


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